


The Restless Dream

by Destina



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-07-01
Updated: 2003-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU of events in the episode Beneath the Surface.  What if Jack had been attracted to Daniel, and not Sam?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Restless Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ in 2003.

_"What difference is there between us, save a restless dream_  
that follows my soul but fears to come near you?"  
\-- Khalil Gibran, "The Captive King" 

 

Janet Fraiser signed the order for supplemental lab tests and grabbed the colonel’s chart from the pile on the duty desk. She was driven by a desire to get the team physicals finished and get them home—it was nearly eight PM at the mountain, but no telling what schedule SG-1 had been on the past few weeks while they had been without solar days or time-keeping on P3R-118. She knew they were all anxious to collect some blissful sleep in their own beds. Except for Teal’c, of course, and even Teal’c needed some quiet time to meditate.

She tugged aside the curtain at the far corner of the infirmary and found the colonel huddled up on the bed, knees drawn up, arms draped around his knees. His gaze was fixed on a point near his bare feet.

“Colonel?”

He gave her a tired smile. “Hey, Doc.”

Janet took a look at his chart. “We’re almost done with the lab work. It’ll be just a few more minutes, and then you’ll be free to go.”

“Great, great.” The colonel sounded completely indifferent. “How’s Teal’c?”

“The healing abilities of his symbiote never cease to amaze me. I can’t find any evidence of ill effects from the memory stamp. He’s very lucky. Given the fact that they wiped his memory at least twice – I was worried about damage to his brain.”

“Carter and Daniel?”

“Well…” She broke off, unsure of what to say. The colonel’s head snapped up, and he fixed her with a look so intense she hastened to add, “Physically, they’re fine. All of you are just a bit more quiet than I’m comfortable with.”

The colonel nodded and looked back down at the plain white sheets covering the bed, as if he could see something in the expanse of emptiness there. 

“Are you still having difficulty recalling details of your life?” Janet asked.

“Nope. Everything’s back. At least, I think so. If there’s something I’m forgetting, I don’t remember what it was.”

“Any confusion between the fictional events of the memory stamp and real events?”

“Some. Every now and then, I get a little urge to sing My Darling Clementine.” 

Janet smiled and looked down at the chart. “Other than the aches and pains you’re feeling, you appear to be in perfect health, sir. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, that’s a byproduct of working different muscle groups than you’re used to.”

“So you’re saying I should work out more,” Jack said dryly. 

She smiled. “That’s entirely up to you, Colonel.” She scribbled a note on the chart and said, “Take aspirin for the joint pain.”

“Yes, doctor.” 

Still scribbling, she asked, “Did anything else happen on the planet I should be aware of?”

“Such as?”

“Anything out of the ordinary.” She looked up at him, but the colonel never glanced up from the sheet. 

“Nope.”

“You were held prisoner and your memories were erased, Colonel. It’s natural to have some feelings about it.”

“Now, see, that’s the thing.” The colonel’s hands tightened together, clasped firmly around his knees. “We thought we wanted to be there. Until the memory stamp started to wear off, we thought we were helping our people.”

“So now that you have your memory back, you’re okay with all of this?”

“I wouldn’t quite put it that way.” He hesitated, then said, “I’ll live.”

“What about the rest of your team? How do you think they’ve weathered this experience?”

The colonel was very quiet for a moment, then: “You’ll have to ask them.”

“I intend to. Right now, I’m asking you.”

The colonel rested his forehead on his folded arms. “Look. It was a little nuts down there. Being different people, with different memories. Our lives didn’t belong to us. Nothing that happened really belongs to us, either. Because it wasn’t real.” He raised his head and looked her dead in the eye. “But we’re no worse for the wear.”

Janet folded one corner of the first page of his chart between her fingers, worrying it between her fingertips. “You know, sir…if you’d just give me some insight into what happened, I might be able to help.” 

He just looked at her. And then, he put his head back down. 

Janet sighed. “All right, Colonel, you win. But I may still have some follow-up questions for you later.” She hung the chart without writing a word. “You can get dressed.”

He didn’t move. Janet watched him for a long moment, noted the tension in his body. Despite his obvious fatigue, his muscles were vibrating with deep, heavy tension. 

She pulled the curtain and stepped away, to give him some privacy. 

 

*****

Jonah had grown used to the sound of men breathing in the dark all around him. He lay in the quiet each night, listening to the rustle and snore of the sleeping workers, and tried to erase the sounds one by one so he might slide into oblivion. 

Since he had returned from the mines, silence had never been silent. The darkness of the plant was a filthy, damp kind of darkness, a contrast to the cold peace of the mines. His memories of his quarters in the mines were already indistinct, fading as though it were long ago, something best left behind him. But there was a prevailing sameness to his memories, a kind of blank darkness, something he couldn’t put his finger on. 

He shifted in the bed and threw off the blanket. The humidity of the plant made clothes cling and hair fall limp against his scalp. It itched. He would have given up all his rations for enough water to take a bath, but water was precious, at a premium. Such luxuries were not available to ordinary workers. 

Jonah would’ve loved a peaceful night’s sleep, but he was fearful of the dreams. They rattled him, kept him off balance. He was starting to worry about his sanity; the images came each night as soon as he had dropped away from the reality of hard labor, of sweat and repetition and days that were all the same. All he had to do was close his eyes and his mind was filled with circles of light and unfamiliar faces. 

Except for one. 

He turned over on the narrow bunk and looked long at the man in the bunk next to his. A strange profile, with an oddly blunted nose. Life in the mines had been a difficult existence – moving ore through long days of darkness. No time to develop friendships, to care about others. This man – Carlin – had smiled at him when he first sat beside him in the common area, and Jonah still remembered the calculating, assessing look in Carlin’s eyes. There was something about him that made Jonah curious. He’d seen Carlin’s face in the night, in his mind’s eye. Nightsick, maybe. The thought of it filled him with fear. 

As Jonah shifted and settled again in the bed, Carlin’s eyes opened slowly, shining blue and bright in the firelight. They stared at one another for a long moment; Jonah’s face heated with the recognition that he’d been caught staring. And then that blue gaze slid down Jonah’s body, and up again, to recapture his startled stare. 

Jonah’s body responded as though the gaze were touch, as though the touch were fire, and he was warm everywhere, blood rushing. Alive, and in need. Carlin simply looked at him, and then he smiled, and Jonah noticed his mouth, and the wry curve of his lips. 

The lights began to grow brighter. Time to start the morning shift. Reluctantly, Jonah sat up and swung his legs to the ground. His body protested; it had enjoyed the brief respite of rest, and the strange stirrings of desire that brought relief from aches and pains. 

Carlin sat up facing him and scrubbed a hand over his face. Red-gold whiskers, a few days’ growth. Few men shaved in the plant, since water was too precious to waste on vanity. “Morning,” he greeted Jonah.

“Yes,” Jonah said grudgingly.

Carlin smiled. “You didn’t sleep?”

“A little,” Jonah said. Carlin’s voice, his manner…he was certain he’d seen Carlin before. He tilted his head and asked, “Have we met? In the mines, maybe?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not in the mines.” Carlin looked thoughtful for a moment; his eyes narrowed as he watched Jonah. “But you do seem familiar.”

“You too.” Jonah struggled to recall the dream he’d had the night before, the one where he’d been walking through snow with Carlin, but the images were already indistinct. He shook his head. “I don’t know why.”

“Come on. We’d better wash up fast or there won’t be anything left to eat when we’re through.” Carlin stood and slapped him lightly on the shoulder, an invitation to come along. 

Together they made their way to the washing area. Long rows of workers were splashing water on their faces. Few lingered there, as there was no opportunity for a real wash until the end of the week, and no way to dry their hands. Jonah spat a mouthful of water on the ground. His mouth tasted foul. Breakfast would do little to ease that sensation. He watched from the corner of his eye as Carlin lifted his shirt over his head and shoved his face under the spigot, wetting his hair. A strong body; lean, and muscled, well suited to his work. Jonah closed his eyes and shook the image loose; no point in distractions. 

They trooped along to the food line, as they had every other morning. Jonah supposed it was this sameness that made things so strangely vague here. He stopped for his cereal and bread, and then followed Carlin to a low seat on the far side of the room. Carlin threw him a look that was hard to read, and they sat together, eating quickly. 

“The food doesn’t have much flavor,” Jonah said. “Might be because my mouth tastes like the inside of a sewer.”

“A what?” Carlin looked curiously at him. 

“It’s an expression.” Jonah drained the bowl and held it in his lap for a moment. 

“Here. Wash it down with more bread. It’ll help the taste.” Carlin extended his own ration of bread to Jonah.

After a moment’s hesitation, Jonah took it. “Thanks.” Everyone knew that no one in the plant did favors without expecting them in return. It made Jonah wary; he looked at the gift in his hand, and considered returning it, but Carlin was downing the last of his meal. Too late. He took a bite of the bread and chewed it slowly, savoring it. 

Jonah nodded up at the walkway above, the path to Brenna’s office. Therra was walking by up there with a determined look on her face. “Think she’ll be able to convince Brenna to listen to her?”

Carlin shrugged. “Don’t know. She has big ideas.” 

“She’s smart,” Jonah said. “Maybe she can make things easier for us.”

“It’s not that bad here.” Carlin leaned back on the bench and gave Jonah an appraising look. 

“Better than the mines,” Jonah said. He took the last bite of bread. 

“I wasn’t in the mines,” Carlin said suddenly. “Around here, people treat you differently when you’ve never done the hard labor.” 

“I don’t care what you did before,” Jonah said, without looking up. “It’s all the same to me.”

Carlin’s eyes narrowed a bit. “My name is—”

“Carlin. I know. I’m Jonah.”

“Jonah,” Carlin repeated, and reached out to clasp Jonah’s hand. His fingers closed around Carlin’s wrist; beneath Jonah’s fingers, Carlin’s pulse beat strong and steady. 

“Your hands,” Jonah said, and covered Carlin’s fingers with his own so he could turn Carlin’s palm up. Blisters had raised and cracked the skin there. 

“They’ll heal.” Carlin withdrew his hand and tapped Jonah’s palm. “Yours don’t look much better.”

“Yours are worse than mine. You should go back to the infirmary, or move to a different job today.”

“No. It’s all right.” Carlin flexed his hands and extended his fingers. “The damned machines are hard to operate sometimes.”

“Right,” Jonah said, though he didn’t have that feeling about his own work. Repairing the blown machinery was like breathing to him – just that easy. It was the repetition that was hard. “You grew up in service?”

“Does it matter?” The answer was sharp. 

“Just curious.”

Carlin leaned forward, watching him. “Didn’t you ever leave the mines?”

Jonah thought back, rifled through his memories. There were so few to choose from – just that sameness, a thread of repetition throughout his life. “Only to come here. You?”

“This is all I remember.”

“So…what is there to do in our down time?” Jonah asked, his question mild, but pointed. 

Carlin snorted. “There won’t be much of that. And there won’t be much to do. Unless you like touchstreaming.” Carlin’s expression turned calculating. “There’s always someone to get you what you need here. What do you need, Jonah?”

Jonah didn’t answer for a moment. The voice of caution in his head reminded him not to give too much away. “That depends on what there is worth having.”

A quicksilver smile came and went on Carlin’s face. “If you’re thinking of finding someone to warm your bed, that’s discouraged here. You didn’t listen to the introductory lectures, did you?”

“Guess not,” Jonah said. A flash of memory: a woman, droning on and on, interminable, about procreative permits and sterilization. 

“Every man and woman has to be productive here. I’ve heard that in the mines, there are certain men and women who are set aside. For…” Carlin gestured up, in a circular motion, as if that made things entirely clear. “Are they?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jonah said softly. 

Carlin’s eyes met his and their gazes locked. For the second time since they’d met, Jonah was overwhelmed with the sensation of knowing this man. 

“I should get to work.” Carlin rose from his seat and took Jonah’s bowl from him. Jonah watched Carlin go, watched his walk, the turn of his head as he greeted others. Something stirred within him, something long dead – an interest he hadn’t felt since…

He frowned. Memories were hovering at the edges of his mind, just out of reach. But the mines were far away, and there was work to be done. 

 

*****

The commotion drew Janet from the hallway—few things were as distinctive as Teal’c’s raised voice. The moment she pushed the curtain aside, the nurse backed up until she was practically hiding behind Janet. Teal’c’s expression was grimly determined. 

“Teal’c? What’s going on?” Janet demanded.

“I do not require additional treatment, Doctor Fraiser. I am well enough to return to my quarters.” Teal’c slid his t-shirt over his head and gave Janet a long stare to emphasize his point.

Janet nodded to the nurse, dismissing her. “It’s all right,” she said. “Ah – not you, Teal’c.” She held out a hand to stop him. 

“Doctor Fraiser, I—”

“Just a minute. Now, I still marvel at how efficiently your symbiote heals you, Teal’c, and you’re absolutely right – you’re not in need of any treatment I can provide.” She hesitated, then rolled a chair closer to the bed. “But I’d like to know a little more of what went on while you were being held prisoner. So why don’t you sit down?” One eyebrow arched in surprise, but after a moment, Teal’c eased back onto the exam table and sat rigid, waiting. Janet said, “Tell me what you remember about the memory stamp.”

“I remember very little.” Straight-ahead stare and pressed lips, and Teal’c was as solidly stoic as she had ever seen him. 

Janet couldn’t see even the tiniest chink in that armor. “Well, tell me what you can, then. When did you realize your memories didn’t match up with the others’?”

“I am not certain. My memories of the time during the first memory wipe are unclear. At some point, I became ill because I had not entered into kel-no-reem, and it was then my memory returned.”

“And…?” Janet prompted.

Teal’c was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, “I attempted to remind O’Neill and Daniel Jackson of their names and relationship to one another, but they did not believe me. They in fact were quite resistant to the suggestion that we were not who we believed we were. I was taken away and the memory stamp was apparently imprinted once again.”

“So you tried to help them remember on their own, and you were punished for it?”

Teal’c stiffened. “Indeed. I expected we would attempt to make our escape; this would not be possible as long as their memories remained erased.” 

“But you weren’t able to do that.”

“I was not.”

“The colonel said that if it weren’t for your outburst, Daniel might never have started to question the gaps in his memory.”

“Then it would seem I was at least partially successful. That is indeed fortunate for all of us.”

“Yes, it was.” Janet paused, trying to find a way to pose a question without prying the information out one word at a time. “What finally provided the trigger for the others to remember?”

“I was not present at the time. However, I believe Major Carter approached O’Neill and Daniel Jackson while I was undergoing the second memory stamp.” 

“So Sam remembered everything around the same time you did?”

“It would appear so.”

“Do you believe she might have been the trigger for releasing their true memories?”

Teal’c’s back became even straighter; Janet thought if he pulled himself up any taller, he might snap. “I believe they were aware of certain inconsistencies prior to Major Carter’s intervention.”

“Why?”

“Because I myself was aware of them.” A muscle in Teal’c’s jaw twitched in silent agitation, then stilled. 

“But your case was a little different, wasn’t it? Your memory stamp didn’t take because of your symbiote, if I’m understanding you correctly.”

“That may be, Doctor Fraiser.” 

Janet frowned down at her hands. No point in badgering Teal’c for details; he obviously wasn’t interested in giving her any more than he already had. “Teal’c, you can leave the infirmary whenever you feel able.”

“Then I will depart immediately.” Teal’c glanced to his left, in the direction of Jack’s exam table, and he stared at the closed curtain for a moment. His expression softened. “Are the others well?”

“They seem fine.”

He inclined his head, a gesture of understanding. 

Janet felt a momentary pang of envy; understanding was in short supply for her, it seemed. 

 

*****

Fixing broken valves was much easier than anything Jonah had done up to that point in his life of service. His hands seem to recognize the tools by touch. He barely had to think about which one to pick up, or which was right for the job before him. Almost as though it were habit, and he’d been doing it forever.

He thought he might have an aptitude for it – might be able to work himself up to head foreman of the plant, eventually. Extra rations, private sleeping quarters...the thought of it made him snort quietly to himself. It would take a long time to get there. The ice age might end first. 

Distractions away from the daily grind were rare. It was meant to be that way, for all of them. Focus on the task at hand; save their people from disaster. But Jonah’s eyes had a will of their own, and they strayed to where Carlin crouched, assembling parts of a new generator. The lines of his body were strong as he leaned into his task. 

“Jonah.” 

Startled, Jonah looked up into bright, intelligent eyes “Therra.” 

She nodded at him. “Brenna’s given me permission to use your skills for a little while. If you’re willing, of course.” 

Jonah put down his tools and wiped his hands on a rag. “Sure.” He followed her as she began to move away. “What’d you have in mind?”

“I was wondering if you could help me craft additional release valves for these systems. Here, and here,” she said, pointing. 

Jonah looked at the places she’d marked and gauged their pressure. “This will have to go offline,” he said. “Until it’s done.”

“Brenna can arrange that.” Therra was peering at him; when he raised his eyebrows, she spoke. “Jonah. Do you…do you recognize me?”

Surprised, Jonah took a good look at her. Her face was relaxed, but her eyes…they seemed anxious, as though she needed something from him. “Should I?”

Therra shook her head slightly, then smiled. She turned away from him. “It’s nothing. Tomorrow, you’ll begin work on this. I’ll take care of it with Brenna.”

“Fine,” he said. He knew he’d been dismissed, but it was odd, the feeling there were words unspoken in her throat, words he should hear. “Anything else?”

“No. Thank you, Jonah.” She didn’t look at him. 

It stayed with Jonah through his shift. Alternately, he thought of Therra, and her strange words, and of Carlin. More and more, Carlin occupied the front of his mind, the part generally reserved for basic thoughts of sleeping and eating and washing up on rest days. With his mind so distracted, the shift passed quickly, and he found himself back in the serving line, scanning the line for – 

“Carlin.”

“Jonah,” Carlin said, acknowledging him with a nod of the head. 

“How’re those hands?” Jonah slung a leg over a bench and sat down. The gruel in the bowl was nutritious, but it held little appeal. He sniffed at it. 

Carlin moved them stiffly as he dipped his fingers into the bowl, then licked his fingers clean. “I’ll live.”

“Let me see,” Jonah said. 

“There’s no need,” Carlin said, and kept on eating his supper, but a slow flush rose in his cheeks. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jonah said. He set his bowl aside and opened his hand expectantly. “Let me see.”

Carlin stilled for a moment, staring into the white soup, then looked at Jonah defiantly. “Why?” he demanded. 

“Because I can help,” he said. He wiggled his fingers at Carlin. “Stubborn only gets you hurt.”

Carlin set his bowl down slowly. His eyes never left Jonah’s. He let Jonah examine his hands. 

“You should have had these tended to,” Jonah said angrily. His fingertips traced gentle patterns through the blood, dried and fresh, dotted on those palms. “You should see the doctor.”

Carlin sighed impatiently. “There’s no way to avoid this. The valves are tight; they haven’t been properly tended.”

“Neither have you.” Jonah squeezed his hands and let them go. “Wait here.” He went back to the serving line and stepped in front of the man at the front. “I need some water,” he said. “Please.”

“You know the rules - you’ve had your rations for the day. Move on.” The dark-skinned girl serving the food glowered at him. 

“Look. Just give me the water.” Jonah leaned across the short table. “Or I’ll come and get it.”

Her scowl deepened. “Don’t threaten me.”

“Just give him the water, Kegan.” From behind him, Therra intervened, saving Jonah the trouble of going over the table and getting it himself. Kegan’s lips thinned, but she dipped a bowl of water and slammed it down on the table. The splash wet the front of Jonah’s shirt.

“Thanks,” he said, looking at Therra. She gave him a curt nod in return. 

Carlin was waiting for him with amusement in his eyes. “There are easier ways to get water,” he said. “Next time, ask me. I can get what you need.” Jonah ignored him and made an impatient gesture – one that said he wanted Carlin’s hands back, and now. 

Carlin obliged with a muttered curse and submitted to Jonah’s ministrations. Jonah gently cleaned each wound with the corner of his shirt – it was the cleanest thing handy. “I need something to wrap them with.”

“Won’t do any good,” Carlin said. A spark of curiosity danced in his eyes. “What difference does it make to you?” 

“Do you want your hands to become infected?” Jonah stroked his thumbs across Carlin’s wrists. When Carlin shook his head, Jonah’s hands tightened around Carlin’s. “Then find something to wrap your hands with.” Carlin’s hands in Jonah’s felt strangely cool. 

They sat that way for long moments. Jonah waited for Carlin to make a move, to take his hands from Jonah’s grasp, but he seemed content to stay still. His hands warmed in Jonah’s, and he pulled his fingers back, touching Jonah’s gently, stroking his thumb across the backs of Jonah’s hands.

A shadow fell across them. Jonah looked up to find the large man hovering over them, scowling. He stood, aware of Carlin at his shoulder. “Can I do something for you?” Jonah asked irritably. 

The man’s scowl deepened, and Jonah stared at the odd golden tattoo on his dark forehead. “O’Neill, you must listen to me. We must escape from here.”

“Escape?” Jonah said, and at his side, Carlin said, “Who’s O’Neill?”

“Yes, escape. You are Colonel Jack O’Neill. You are my friend. You also, Daniel Jackson.” The big man’s gaze shifted to Carlin. “I am Teal’c. We are part of a team called SG-1. We must escape this place.”

“Wait a minute,” Jonah demanded. Crazy talk – he’d heard it before. Nightsick . Alarm notched up in his gut. Carlin moved fractionally closer to him so that Jonah could feel their arms touching. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know you.”

“You must listen to me!” Suddenly, the man – Teal’c – grabbed Jonah by the upper arms. His grip was like hard metal, biting into Jonah’s skin. 

“Hey!” Jonah said, and no sooner had he said it than Carlin was on Teal’c, pulling him away, one arm clasped firm around the barrel chest. 

“Do not do this, Daniel Jackson!” Teal’c took hold of Carlin and threw him hard to the ground, then stepped back. Carlin lay flat for a moment, the wind knocked out of him. 

Jonah stepped between the big man and Carlin, to buy time for Carlin to get to his feet; together, they might have a chance against Teal’c. “What’s your problem?” he hissed. 

Teal’c looked directly into his eyes and grabbed his shoulder. “O’Neill! This man is your friend. I am your friend. You are the leader.”

“Leader of what?” Jonah said, annoyed, as Teal’c’s grip tightened on his arm. The big man cast an agitated glance at Carlin, behind Jonah; Jonah’s alarm notched up sharply. “Could we get some help over here?” Jonah called, without taking his eyes off Teal’c; his voice rose on each word. 

Then there were men all around them, and the clatter of footsteps on the metal stairs, and Brenna giving orders for Teal’c to be taken away. The short scuffle faded to the background, into nothingness, as Jonah crouched beside Carlin and extended his hand. For the second time, their fingers touched, their skin connected. 

“He’s nightsick. Must be,” Carlin breathed, as Jonah pulled him to his feet. 

This time, Jonah didn’t let go of Carlin’s hand. “Everything that happens here isn’t because of nightsickness,’ he said. “I don’t think that’s the answer.”

“Don’t,” Carlin said sharply. “Drop this. Or they’ll take you away too.” His grip tightened on Jonah’s hand. “You understand?”

“Of course I understand.” Jonah frowned, but he said nothing more, and Carlin offered no other words of explanation. 

They sat back down, unsettled, wary. Jonah’s mind spun a thousand different directions. You are the leader. 

“I don’t want anybody getting the wrong idea,” Jonah said, after a moment.

“About you being a leader?”

“About me being nightsick. You, either.”

“Then you’d better stay away from him from now on. By the way – his name’s Tor. What did he call himself – Teal’c?” Carlin prodded the blisters on his hand. 

“How do you know his name?” Jonah asked.

Carlin shrugged. “Heard it around, somewhere.” He avoided Jonah’s searching gaze. Jonah thought of Tor’s desperation to get through to him, to stop him. To remind him of something important.

You are the leader.

 

*****

Sam was pale, Janet thought. There was little doubt none of SG-1 had received proper nutrition while in captivity on P3R-118. Add to that the lack of sunshine and fresh air, and it was hard to imagine how they’d all come back in relatively good condition. 

“Sam?” Janet asked gently. Didn’t matter; Sam still jumped at the sound of her name. 

“Sorry,” she apologized. 

“Don’t be.” Janet smiled warmly. “Your tests have come back; there’s nothing to be alarmed about. Just a lack of iron and other minerals and vitamins in your bloodstream. I’m going to give you some supplements to take to boost the levels in your body.”

“Good.” Sam sighed. “Then I’m good to go?”

“Almost. I have a couple of questions for you, first.”

“You always do.” Sam scratched her arm absently. “I’m looking forward to putting on some soft, comfortable clothes. And sleeping for a week.”

“Sounds good to me, too.” Janet lifted Sam’s arm and examined the minor rash above her elbow. “I’ll give you some hydrocortisone cream for this; it’ll clear it up in no time.”

Sam nodded. “Those clothes…” She sighed. “Even infirmary scrubs are better.”

“I can’t imagine that it was pleasant down there.” Janet signaled to a nurse, then scrawled something on Sam’s chart and handed it to her. “I think we’ll give you a shot of vitamins, to jump-start your system. While we wait – how about if you tell me when you started to remember who you were?”

Sam leaned back on the table, supporting her weight on her arms. Her posture was deceptively relaxed; only her eyes were wary. “It came in bits and pieces. Little things, at first. I thought I recognized the colonel, but I didn’t want to say so right away. I’d seen people being taken away for less, so I thought the dreams were just my imagination.”

“And it’s not hard to see why you might dream of the colonel,” Janet teased her. “Especially if you didn’t know he was your superior officer.” 

Sam frowned. “In this case, it is.”

“Really? Why?” Janet took the syringe of vitamin-enriched fluid from the nurse and Sam hopped off the table. She bared a few inches of her backside and Janet swabbed her skin, then gave the shot. 

“Nothing,” Sam said, over her shoulder. Janet looked up – the tone in Sam’s voice caught her attention – but Sam was facing away. After a moment, she turned and sat back down on the exam table, arms crossed over her chest. “I just thought…I thought the colonel was a little slow to accept things. I thought maybe he suspected something, like I did.”

“What do you mean?” Janet asked. She discarded the syringe in a disposal tray and removed her gloves. 

“It was just a feeling I had. Whenever I talked to the colonel – to Jonah, I mean – I expected him to say any moment that he knew me, but he never did.” Her frown deepened. “I think he knew Daniel, though.”

“So they knew each other?”

“They seemed to be friends.” Sam’s fingers were rubbing over the rash again, distractedly, in tiny circles. 

“Well, for all you know, your presence, or Teal’c’s, might be what triggered their true memories.”

“Maybe.” Sam smiled briefly at Janet, and the false veneer of her smile raised prickles of alarm on Janet’s skin. 

“Is there anything else you can tell me? I’m concerned about your ability to reintegrate your memories as these other people with your actual selves. I’d just like to know how you feel about what happened.”

“My work there was much the same as it is here – problem solving,” Sam said. Her fingers stilled against her arm. “It’s just – you’d think we would all have gravitated toward one another, wouldn’t you? That we’d be friends, or at least allies, if any part of our personalities remained. But that didn’t happen. Just…” Sam hesitated. 

“Just the colonel and Daniel?”

“Yes.” Sam shook her head. 

“And you’re wondering why?” Janet felt like she was floundering for answers to questions she didn’t know to ask. 

“No. Not exactly.” Sam ducked her head down, then raised it again, her expression serious. “I know I’m not really making sense.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s all part of working this out.” Janet gave Sam her best reassuring smile. “Why don’t you go get dressed and get out of here?”

 

*****

 

“Your turn.” The man behind Jonah nudged him none too gently. The line rustled with movement as twenty impatient men shifted forward, closer to their goal. 

“Watch it,” Jonah said irritably. He twisted to look behind him, then stepped up over the threshold into the makeshift showers. The place was dark and full of steam, and each of the small stalls could only accommodate two men at a time, but it didn’t matter; a few minutes of full-body contact with water was a weekly source of pure pleasure. He stripped down and stepped under the trickling thin stream of water. 

His hands ached down to the bone. A word flashed into his mind – arthritis – but he set it aside, as it had no context. Instead, he reached up to the source of the trickle and let the warm water flood through his spread fingers to soothe his battered hands. Too late, he realized he hadn’t picked up soap on his way in – but no point in worrying over it now. The water was the only thing he craved.

Someone brushed by him and took the stall next to his, radiating body heat. Jonah glanced up and saw Carlin, watching him with open curiosity. It was shocking, the depth of interest in Carlin’s eyes, open, undisguised. Jonah nodded, and received a nod in return. Then it was his turn to watch as Carlin soaped up with a handful of white gel. Jonah broke his gaze away quickly and clutched at the spigot, eyes closed, but the afterimage was burned on his brain – broad hands, long fingers stroking lean muscles. For a long moment, Jonah substituted his own lean body beneath that touch. 

Carlin’s voice, close to Jonah’s ear, startled him. “No soap?”

“Forgot,” Jonah said brusquely. 

“Let me,” Carlin said, and then his hands were there, rubbing Jonah’s back, and fantasy had become life. Jonah pressed his chest into the cold tiles to quench the fever Carlin’s touch awoke in his skin. Soothing, strong touch of fingers, pressed lightly into his muscles, as Carlin soaped his back, his buttocks, kneeling behind him to run his hands down the length of Jonah’s calves and thighs. Up again, sliding over his hips and pulling him gently away from the wall. 

Jonah wrapped his fingers around the spigot and arched his back as Carlin spread the soap across Jonah’s chest, as he slowed his pace and worked down Jonah’s sides, circling, not quite reaching, and then finally – a gentle lift of Jonah’s dick, soaping beneath, pulling down the length of it. A strangled moan escaped Jonah’s lips, a muttered curse, and then Carlin withdrew his hands and stepped away. 

“Done,” Carlin said, in a low voice. 

Jonah rested his forehead on the tiles, gathering strength to turn around to meet Carlin’s blue stare, but Carlin rinsed off quickly and stepped aside to make way for others who had come into the showers. Jonah resisted the urge to touch himself, to relieve the terrible aching pressure brought to life by tenderness, but he didn’t dare. 

He’d suspected Carlin might want him, but he hadn’t been sure. Now he knew. 

Carlin was nowhere in sight when Jonah made his way out of the showers. He grabbed a towel and dried off quickly, then dressed in fresh clothing – the same as every other end of week. 

Not much to do for fun in their precious down time. Carlin was right about that, too. Jonah looked around the bunkroom at the assortment of tired, overburdened workers, and wondered if any of them had ever had families, or people they loved, working somewhere else – the mine, or deeper in one of the plants. It would have been nice to have somewhere to go, someone to see. Something different to do. 

At the far corner of the room, a small group of men and women was playing a game with a ball and two sticks; nearby, some of the women were chattering together while mending their clothes. He looked down at his own quilted jacket. It could stand some repair, but he had no needle or thread. Strange, that he didn’t seem to have them. He would have to barter for them later. 

He leaned against his bunk and watched traffic filter in and out of the room. Just beyond the doorway, he caught a glimpse of a familiar face – Carlin – talking quietly with a tall, muscular man named Trevon. They were close together, their heads bent. A pang of envy washed through Jonah and he looked away. 

Slowly, he raised his head and looked again. No harm in looking. Especially from a distance. 

Carlin nodded at something Trevon said. And suddenly, as Jonah watched, Trevon pushed Carlin, who immediately shoved back; the table behind Trevon clattered loudly as he slammed into it. Jonah tensed, but didn’t move; his heartbeat climbed as he waited for anything, any sign that he should intervene. Trevon swung a punch and hit Carlin’s mouth, but Carlin grabbed him and shoved him hard against the wall, hands around his throat. Trevon struggled a moment and then relaxed; his hands went to Carlin’s chest, and Carlin released him. Trevon pressed something into Carlin’s hands – Jonah couldn’t see it, but he thought he knew what it was. 

“You’re in my way.”

“What?” Jonah turned to see Kegan behind him, her expression openly hostile.

“I said, get out of my way. You’re blocking my bunk.” Jonah moved aside with exaggerated courtesy. She glared at him and dropped an armload of clothes on her bed.

“What’s your problem?” Jonah asked her, as she tossed shirts to one side, pants to another.

She didn’t bother to look at him. “You’re wasting your time, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Carlin. I saw you looking at him. He’s not interested.”

Jonah leaned back against the bunk bed and crossed his arms. “In you, or in general?” 

The mild, pointed question caused the girl to whip around and fix him with an angry stare. “He’s got better things to do than waste time with people like you.”

“What’s this got to do with you?”

“We were friends, once. Carlin just doesn’t know what’s good for him. But I do, and it’s not you.”

“So I take it that means you think you’d be better.” 

Kegan balled up her clothing with jerky, impatient motions and stuffed it all under the bunk. “Do what you want. I’m just warning you. He’s not interested in anything but himself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jonah said. He thought about asking her if she had one of those procreative permits, but decided he’d prefer it if she didn’t scratch his eyes out, so he left it alone. 

“Hey,” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Carlin on the other side of the bunk, leaning on his folded arms. “You have big plans for the afternoon?” 

“Oh, nothing much. Making new friends,” Jonah said, with an annoyed smile. He jerked his head toward Kegan. 

Carlin’s mischievous look faded and he said, “Hello, Kegan.”

“Don’t bother,” she said, and fixed him with a frosty stare – both of them, actually. She grabbed her jacket and pushed past Jonah. 

Jonah turned back to Carlin. “What’s that all about?”

“Kegan and I were friends, once. She liked me.”

“I figured that part out.”

“I wasn’t interested. She was offended. Nothing more to it than that.”

“She’s attractive,” Jonah said. “In an intimidating way.”

Carlin chuckled. “Yes. But not what I’m looking for.” His blue eyes seemed to cut right through Jonah, straight to the private desires he couldn’t articulate.

Jonah’s gaze dropped to Carlin’s lips, and to the cut Trevon’s strike had left. “You’re bleeding.” 

Carlin wiped a hand over his mouth. “It’s nothing.” Carlin’s glance raked over him, from his tousled, wet hair to his bare feet, and back up again. “Do you touchstream?”

“Haven’t done it much, no. Not my kind of thing.” The vulnerability of touchstreaming made him wary, but he didn’t know of a way to explain it to Carlin without sounding weak, so he left it at that. 

“That’s too bad.” Carlin dropped two capsules – freshly purchased from Trevon, Jonah guessed – on the top bunk. “You sure you don’t want to give it a try? I’ll stay with you.”

Jonah met Carlin’s steady gaze, and a shiver of desire caught up with him, an intoxicating lure that made the idea of touchstreaming much more appealing. His fears – loss of control, loss of inhibition – nagged at him, but he deliberately set them aside. “Maybe.” He looked around. “Not here. We get caught, they’ll cut our rations by half.”

“I know a place. Follow me.”

“Where?” Jonah asked. 

Carlin just smiled and scooped up the capsules. “Come on.” 

Jonah walked with him down long hallways, past rows and rows of boilers. This was as deep into the heart of the plant as he’d ever been. They moved quickly past the boilers, to a small, unused space behind them, a sort of room enclosed by the retaining walls behind the machines. The heat was thick in the small space, but it was dim and quiet. Carlin ducked inside with Jonah close behind him and reached out to press a finger to Jonah’s lips, cautioning him. 

“This is the most privacy I’ve ever had,” Jonah said softly, looking around the tiny space. “Seems strange.”

“I asked around. Most people who know about this place are too afraid of having their rations cut or being reassigned to the mines. They won’t risk coming here.” Carlin ran a hand through his close-cropped hair. “I wasn’t sure if you…if we should.”

“And here we are,” Jonah observed. He smiled a little at Carlin. “So, what now?”

Carlin’s expression softened, became curious. He leaned back against the wall, one arm wrapped around his body loosely, the other pressed against the wall for balance. “Don’t you wonder about what Tor said?” 

“Do you think it’s important?” Jonah countered. 

“I’m not sure.” Carlin chewed the corner of his lip. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but…I’ve had dreams…of a circle of water, and of you.”

“Me?” Jonah blinked at him, surprised. Images from his own dreams rushed back upon him, full of shadows and darkness and faces, strange shimmering blurs devoid of recognition. 

“Yes. You.”

Jonah thought about his answer, and finally, he said, “I’ve had dreams. A big, dark room with water. Lots of water.”

“And was I there?”

“You, and Therra.”

Carlin’s surprise showed on his face. “Maybe there’s something to it, then. Maybe something’s wrong with us.”

“Nothing’s wrong with us,” Jonah said harshly. 

“I don’t know,” Carlin said. With a tilt of his head, he asked, “Don’t you think it’s possible we shouldn’t be here? I feel like…I’m not sure what I feel like. Like, maybe we don’t belong here.”

“Well then, all we can do is worry about where we are now. Right?”

“Maybe.” Carlin sounded doubtful. 

“Is this why you wanted to come here? To talk about some crazy theories?”

“Not exactly, no. I wanted…” Carlin stopped, looked up at him. “You said you usually don’t do this, so…why did you come with me?”

Jonah stepped close and touched Carlin’s face. He stroked a thumb across that growth of beard, over Carlin’s lips. When they parted for him, he leaned close. “This,” he said, and caught Carlin’s lips between his own. He licked at the cracked place on Carlin’s lower lip, excited by the way Carlin’s breath came faster at his daring. 

Carlin gasped his name and took Jonah’s face in his hands; he kissed Jonah roughly. He pushed Jonah back until he struck the wall, and then Carlin took control, devouring his mouth, kissing him in a way that made Jonah moan softly. Carlin reached down with one hand and popped the fastenings of Jonah’s trousers, to shove his hand inside, palm and fingers flat against the bare skin of Jonah’s stomach. His hand slid up Jonah’s side, pushing his shirt out of the way. 

“Wait,” Jonah said, hands on Carlin’s shoulders. Carlin pulled back and licked his lips; his eyes had darkened to a deep blue. 

“We don’t have much time,” Carlin said, and his thumbs brushed across Jonah’s nipples. Jonah caught his breath. “You want this.”

“The touchstream,” Jonah said, as Carlin’s lips closed on his again, another kiss, deeper than the first, slower. 

Carlin’s fingers tugged open the corner of Jonah’s mouth and he slipped one of the vials inside. “Bite down,” he said, dropping slow kisses down the side of Jonah’s neck. Jonah bit the capsule hard, and a rush of sweet, sugary flavor exploded across his tongue. 

Colors shifted; the lights seemed to dim, and his skin was on fire. He gasped for breath. “Carlin,” he whispered. 

“Here,” Carlin answered, as he teased open Jonah’s mouth with kisses. Jonah dropped his head back against the wall as the world narrowed to the sensation against his skin – no sound, no smell, just taste and touch. 

Carlin’s fingers were rough—the scrape of skin against skin, the drag of his fingernails up Jonah’s chest, while his lips gently drew soft lines at the base of Jonah’s throat. Jonah tried to breathe when Carlin’s lips touched his stomach, when his breath against Jonah’s skin made him shudder with delicious need. 

He swayed in place as Carlin freed his cock from his trousers, as Carlin’s fingers stroked him; his mind exploded into tiny shards of white-hot lust when Carlin’s mouth closed on him, took him in, tongue and teeth working him along with those hands, those callused, injured hands. Carlin’s teeth grazed his hip, gentle bites, barely penetrating the skin, sending lust roaring through Jonah’s blood. 

His knees weakened as he bit his lip, drawing blood, copper and bright and savage, like the drawing pressure of Carlin’s mouth on his cock. He made a strangled sound, killing the noise before it could escape. “Carlin,” he whispered, and let himself be braced with his back to the wall, taken down Carlin’s throat, swallowed whole. He did cry out, then, and came with a long, suspended breath of surrender in his lungs, exhaled finally when Carlin let him fall to his knees. 

Carlin hushed him, silenced him with a kiss that tasted of passion and release. The halo of silence around his senses dimmed and he struggled a bit in Carlin’s arms as Carlin said urgently, “Trust me…” He stilled as Carlin pressed feather-light kisses to Jonah’s eyes, his cheeks, his lips. 

Jonah turned his head and captured Carlin’s mouth in an open, greedy kiss; his tongue sought Carlin’s tongue. Carlin moaned when Jonah’s hand went around his cock, as Jonah touched him, teased him, and then finally stroked him quickly over the edge. 

They sat together, hands touching, fingers laced, as Jonah struggled to regain his composure. “It’s too dangerous to stay here…to do this, this way,” Carlin said, in a desperate voice. 

“I don’t care,” Jonah whispered finally, lips against Carlin’s hot face, eyes closed. 

 

*****

Daniel, for once, was not curled up comfortably on the table, or sitting cross-legged against the pillow. He was sitting at the edge of the exam bed, straight as an arrow. Janet stopped to look at him for a moment. His posture was as rigid as his gaze was distant; his thoughts were obviously very far away. 

“Daniel?” she said, in full doctor-mode.

Immediately, his full attention returned to her. “Janet,” he said, and smiled at her. 

“As soon as we do a few follow-up tests, you’ll be free to go.”

“How many of these little chats have we had over the years, d’you think?” Daniel asked. 

“Too many to count,” she answered, tapping her pen on the chart. 

“Don’t suppose my faithful self-reporting can get me out of it this time. Could it?”

“Not a chance,” she said. Daniel nodded, resigned to his fate. “You did a nice job of keeping those broken blisters on your hands clean. They’re going to heal nicely.”

“Jack did that, actually,” Daniel said. He turned his hand over and stared at it; his thumb rubbed across the lifeline stretching across his palm. 

“Good for the colonel.” Janet took his hand and stopped him from scratching at his hand; Daniel smiled at the silent rebuke. “I’ve ordered a few additional blood panels; your white blood cell count is up. Your body may be fighting off some sort of minor bug. Were you exposed to any illnesses through close contact on the planet?”

His head shot up, and his eyes fixed on her, focused with a kind of intensity that would have made her nearly breathless, under other circumstances. “What?”

Janet raised her eyebrows. “I can’t treat you for possible infections or viruses unless I know what to look for.” 

His gaze shifted down, fixed on a point somewhere deep beneath the mountain. Tap, tap; her pen ticked off the passing seconds on her clipboard. She shoved the pen in her pocket. Finally, Daniel said, “Nothing like what you mean.”

She watched him. He was very still. She reached for words of comfort. “Daniel, I know this is difficult for all of you. To believe you’re someone you’re not, and then to find your entire life is a lie...”

“It’s more than that,” Daniel said. “We were different people, Janet. Living other lives.” There was a raw kind of pain in his voice, and for a moment, it made him seem lonely, and alone. 

“I know,” she said softly. 

There really was nothing else to say. 

 

*****

Bruises. 

The fire from the stove shaded them, made them look cool and dark against Jonah’s skin, like pools of ink. He lifted his arm and turned it in the flickering light, staring at the vivid marks on his arms. There were bite marks, too, on his hips, his stomach, and the lingering burn of them was a satisfying reminder. 

He shifted in the bunk and turned to face Carlin, who lay awake just a few feet away. Carlin’s eyes glittered in the dark as he watched Jonah. His gaze traveled to the visible bruises, then back to Jonah’s face; the look in his eyes stirred Jonah, made him hard. Carlin rolled from his bed and, with a look back at Jonah, moved silently away from the sleeping area. 

Jonah slid a hand down his body, beneath the thin blanket and layers of clothing. He touched his cock, stroking it slowly, savoring the anticipation of what was to come. He imagined how it would be this time, without the stimulant, without the sensory changes – just Carlin’s skin on his, his mouth, the taste and smell of him. He stroked himself faster, moving quickly toward climax, and stopped at the edge, just before the fall. 

When he stood, the room seemed to spin; he wanted Carlin so much the rush of it made him dizzy. He made his way to the place where their newfound secret had been born and rounded the corner into Carlin’s arms, into the hot taste of him, the rough feel of his unshaven face as they kissed. His hand locked into place around the back of Carlin’s neck as Carlin undid their pants, baring skin, and they strained together, still standing, rubbing slowly against each other, hardness to hardness. 

Carlin lowered his face into Jonah’s shoulder and gasped as Jonah dug his fingers into Carlin’s ass. He pushed against Carlin, sweet friction and pressure, until finally Jonah broke, and Carlin shattered with him, held in place by Jonah’s arms around him. 

They stood against the wall, Jonah’s weight covering Carlin. Carlin’s arms fell limply against Jonah’s body before his hands began wandering, touching, sensuous strokes over the length of Jonah’s back, beneath his shirt. 

“This is…” Carlin’s heart thudded against his ribs; Jonah could feel it. 

“Yeah,” Jonah said, and kissed Carlin slowly He whispered, “Why shouldn’t we have what we want? There’s nothing else here for us.” After a moment, he pulled away reluctantly and fastened his trousers. Carlin followed suit. They sat down on the ground, backs to the wall and shoulders touching. Long moments of silence passed. 

“I’ve been dreaming,” Carlin said. “Of the circle of water. There were more details this time.”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” Jonah said tightly. 

“Jonah, this is important.” Carlin scooted around so he was facing Jonah, one knee drawn up and an arm slung over it. “I saw Teal’c in my dream.”

“You said his name was Tor,” Jonah reminded him. 

“Maybe I was wrong. Teal’c feels right – sounds right.”

“Are you trying to tell me you really do know him?”

“No, I think maybe we know him. Both of us. And we know each other.”

“I don’t know you.” Jonah leaned closer, close enough to touch Carlin’s lips with his own when he said, “I’m sure, now. I’d remember.”

“Maybe we didn’t know each other like this,” Carlin said slowly. 

“Maybe, maybe, maybe. Don’t you know any other words? You talk too much,” Jonah murmured. Carlin jumped as though he’d been burned. Jonah raised his head and stared intently at Carlin. “What?”

“Nothing, I…” Carlin frowned. “Something you said. I’m not sure.”

Jonah sighed and leaned back against the wall, aware of Carlin’s gaze on his skin. “I sort of remember something. I think.”

“What?” 

“A dream, or…not a dream. I don’t know. A big, round circle, and Therra, and Teal’c.”

“Tor,” Carlin corrected him.

“Whatever. Make up your mind.” 

“Either way.” Carlin bowed his head, then tilted it up and stared at the partition. “Maybe one of us should talk to Therra.”

“You know, here’s something funny. Therra approached me, a few days ago.” Jonah waited for the reaction; it came quickly. 

“Really? What did she say?”

“She asked me if I recognized her. Which I don’t. Not exactly,” Jonah amended, then hastened to say, “Not from here, anyway.”

“You dreamed of her.” Carlin sat forward, radiating excitement. “Before last night. But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why do you think? I barely know you,” Jonah said, irritated. “For all I knew, you would report me, and that’d be all she wrote.” Carlin frowned at the unfamiliar phrase. Jonah realized he was learning to read those looks and added quickly, “It’s an expression.”

“I don’t believe that,” Carlin said vehemently. “You never thought I’d report you.”

Jonah couldn’t make himself look into Carlin’s accusing eyes. Mostly because he was right. 

“So what was it? Why didn’t you say anything?” Carlin touched Jonah gently; his fingertips brushed over the back of Jonah’s hand, inviting trust. 

“Because. This is what it is. What it’s always been. Talking about this doesn’t change anything. It’s just crazy.” Jonah moved his hand away. “Just drop it.”

“Only if you tell me you’ll talk with Therra.” Stubborn. Jonah could feel his jaw tighten as Carlin added, “And then, no more about it. I promise.”

“Fine.” Jonah started to get up from the floor, but Carlin’s brief touch of fingers stopped him. 

“Wait, Jonah. No one will miss us until start of shift.” 

“I don’t want to take the chance.” Jonah turned his head, so he wouldn’t see the look of determination on Carlin’s face. “Tomorrow. After lights out.” He kept walking, away from Carlin’s persistent curiosity, away from his own need. 

 

*****

The curtain was still drawn. 

Janet had been glancing back at it for the last hour or so, as she went from one member of SG-1 to another finishing up their exams. She’d pulled that curtain herself, but Jack had never emerged from behind it. 

She stacked the charts to one side of the medical station and set her notes on top. The general would be expecting a complete report soon and she’d have to figure out what ‘complete’ was going to include. 

But the closed curtain was distracting her. 

Finally, she went to it and stood on the other side of it. No snoring; Jack hadn’t fallen asleep. She reached out to yank it open and thought better of it. “Sir?” she called. “Colonel, are you all right?”

After a moment, the quiet reply came: “Fine. Sorry to be taking up space, Doc.”

“You’re not, sir.” She did pull the curtain open, then, and saw Jack, still sitting as she’d left him, still dressed in scrubs. “Is there anything you need?”

“No. I should be getting home.”

“You should. Carter and Teal’c are gone, and in a few minutes, the nurses will be finished with Daniel’s follow-up tests,” she said. Jack nodded, but didn’t look up at her. “Sir, you might want to consider getting something to eat before you go. Your tests indicated your blood sugar is a bit low. Nothing to be alarmed about, but some food is a good idea.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He glanced up and flashed her a smile, then unwound from his sitting position and stood. “Thanks.” 

The infirmary was empty. They were alone. Janet opened her mouth to dispense more medical advice about nutrition and rest, and instead was surprised to hear herself saying: “I think I have some idea of what you went through, sir. All of you.” 

Jack leaned against the edge of the exam table and folded his arms across his chest. He was always hard to read when he was determined not to cooperate, but this wall around him was something new. “Got something you want to say, Doctor Fraiser?”

“No, sir. Just that there are things germane to the scope of medical examinations, and things that aren’t, and a good doctor knows the difference between them.”

His gaze pinned her in place. “Nothing to say about the fact that none of us were able to resist the memory stamp? Or overcome it? C’mon, Doc. You must have an opinion about that.”

Her tone softened. “You’re a realist, sir. You’re practical about things, here or anywhere else. Why would you want to believe something that was contrary to everything you saw around you?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” A muscle twitched in his jaw, drawn tight by withheld emotions. 

Later, Janet wrote her report in silence, in the empty infirmary, and tried not to remember the haunted look in the colonel’s eyes. 

 

*****

“You’ve made good progress with these joints.” Therra crouched down next to the newly installed valves and inspected them with a critical eye. Jonah watched her warily; the valves represented three days worth of his time. Finally, she rendered her opinion: “Nicely done.”

“Thanks.” Jonah wiped a wrench on an old rag and gestured to the soldered joints of the nearby steam pipes. “Hope it’ll last. There’s too much pressure on these pipes, here. And over there,” he said, pointing with the wrench. 

“You’re right, but Brenna won’t allow me to take them offline to do more extensive re-routing.” She threw open her hands in frustration. “No matter how many times I try to tell her, she just won’t hear what I’m saying. I’m afraid we’ll be working at capacity for some time to come.” 

“Too bad. More work for us,” Jonah said. He dropped the wrench into the toolbox. 

““Thank you, Jonah,” Therra said, and delivered a smile of satisfaction.

“It is my honor to serve,” he said, with a half-smile in return. 

She clutched her reports to her chest and stood, looking around awkwardly, as though she wanted to say something. For several shifts, she’d been staring at him while he worked. He’d caught her more than once with a wistful, puzzled expression, eyes fixed on him as though he were the only person on his crew. 

Over the pipe, he could see Carlin at work on one of the boilers. His hands never stopped their tasks, even as he watched Jonah with an avid, open curiosity. 

“Jonah,” Therra began. She glanced up at the workers around them, then lowered her voice. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” 

“What?” 

“This probably isn’t the right place for the conversation.”

“Where else would we go?” Jonah looked around pointedly.

“You’re right, of course.” After a slight hesitation, she stepped closer to him. “It’s about Tor, the man with the gold markings on his forehead. He’s been sick. Very sick. Brenna has him confined to his bed. No one is allowed to go near him.” She glanced around again, nervously. “But he called me over to him…and he called me by another name. It’s a name I know, but I’m not sure why.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“I think you know.” She looked steadily at him. “Are you sure you don’t recognize me?”

Mistrust welled up inside Jonah. He shrugged casually. “Why should I? I never knew you before I arrived from the mines.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think you did arrive from the mines.” She frowned. “Jonah, you have to trust me. Please.” She lowered her voice as two men began applying a patch to a nearby pipe. “Tor says we all know each other. He said I’m not the leader – you are.”

The idea of leading the crew resonated with Jonah, and bit by bit, he allowed the idea some space. His natural tendency to take charge…his certainty about leading his crew…but he shook his head anyway. “He’s nightsick. You believe that from someone who’s not right in the head?” Jonah dismissed her worries with a wave of his hand. “Believe me, I don’t know you.”

“If you can tell me I don’t seem familiar to you, then I’ll…I won’t mention it again.” She looked hard at him. 

Jonah thought back to what Carlin had said to him – words that had been nagging at him for days. Promise you’ll talk with Therra. A promise he hadn’t wanted to make. And he’d never promised what he would talk about, when he did fulfill the obligation. He sidestepped. “What is it you think I should know, Therra?” 

“I guess…if I’m asking you to trust me, I’ll have to trust you.” She leveled a direct gaze at him. “There’s something about this place that’s not right for us. For any of us. You, me, Tor…and Carlin. Somehow, we’re all connected. I think maybe we didn’t come from this place.”

Her words struck him like blows to his body, hard and fast, and fell somewhere near his heart. With each of them, he could feel the truth moving closer. He fought the urge to turn and walk away, but…something within him warred with his need to turn away; an instinct, to see what was hidden from him. To know. Slowly, he said, “You know how that sounds. You know what will happen if you say it to the wrong person.”

“Yes. I’m hoping you’re not the wrong person. You and Carlin seem close. Maybe you’ve talked about it. Maybe I’m not alone in thinking this.”

“Maybe, maybe, maybe. I hate that word,” Jonah muttered. His eyes automatically sought the comfort of Carlin’s again, but he was startled to realize Carlin was heading across the boiler room, straight for them. He gave his attention to Therra. “Say I tell you do seem…a little familiar. What then?”

“Then, I’d say the three of us should talk. We might be able to figure out what’s going on.”

“You mean you and me, and Carlin.”

“Yes.”

“Based on what Tor said.”

“More than that,” she said. “I see it in your eyes, Jonah. You know he’s right.”

“Hey,” Carlin said, coming up behind Jonah. Therra gave him a wary look; Carlin waited for Jonah to speak. 

Jonah turned away from them both. “Carlin thinks Tor might be right,” he admitted, by way of smoothing Carlin into the conversation.

“You think so too?” Carlin said to Therra, his voice low. 

“Yes.” Triumph, and hope, in Therra’s single word.

“Where and when?” Jonah asked, finally, still without looking at them. 

He could hear the strain in her voice when she answered. “Tomorrow night, after lights out, in the corridor near the furnace. You know where I mean?”

Carlin answered for him. “Yes. Why not tonight?”

“I’ll be inspecting the boilers with Brenna tonight. It has to be tomorrow. Jonah?”

He nodded, and looked over his shoulder at her. “We’ll be there.”

“Thank you,” she said, with obvious relief in her voice. 

When she moved away, Jonah felt the weight of her gaze removed from him, for the first time, and something much heavier in its place. Carlin’s hand rested in the middle of his back, solid, reassuring, before they parted and went back to work. No more conversation; it seemed smarter to save their words for when they’d be most important. 

The day passed quickly toward end of shift, and then evening meal, and then the chance to settle into bed and sleep for a few blissful, oblivious hours. Jonah curled up on his bunk and closed his eyes. Restless thoughts circled inside his mind, wary speculation about what his future might hold. At the center of every thought, Carlin’s face, Carlin’s hands, his eyes, his smile. Impossible to shake it loose; the image of Carlin’s body beneath his hands possessed every free thought. The thought of losing the small private sanctuary he’d built with Carlin made him ache with apprehension. 

Before long, he was slipping in and out of restless dreams, visions on the edges of conscious thought, at the gap between waking and sleeping. Darkness swirled around him, overtaking him, drawing him closer to understanding. 

“This way.”

Jonah turned, startled. The shadows of the room were lifted by Carlin’s smile, as he stood before the shimmering circle of water. “What?” Jonah asked, confused. 

“This way.” Carlin turned his face toward the circle, and Jonah noticed his clothes were strange – green, with odd symbols on them, and a black vest of some kind. “Come on, Jack. We’re all going.”

“I’m not Jack,” Jonah said. He took a step back. 

“Of course you are.” Carlin frowned at him. “Jack, what’s wrong with you? Come on!”

“Wait….” Jonah took another step back and jumped when he brushed against someone else—Therra, climbing the ramp to stand beside Carlin. She was dressed the same as Carlin, in a way Jonah knew he should recognize. He looked down at his own clothing, the same greens and blacks, and frowned.

“Sir, what’s wrong?”

Jonah opened his mouth to reply to her and the words tumbled out, attached to truth. “Nothing, Carter.” He stared at Carlin. Not Carlin. Daniel. 

Daniel….

With a jolt, Jonah sat up in the bunk and twisted toward Carlin’s bunk. It was empty. He exhaled a long breath; sweat cooled on his skin. He sat up and leaned over, elbows on his knees, trying to breathe. 

Carlin’s name was Daniel. 

Daniel, whose skin he had tasted, whose lips were soft beneath his own, who had closed his eyes and come without a sound when he was fucked. Daniel, who had turned Jack on his stomach and fucked him, teeth imbedded in his neck, and then after, had whispered to him of feelings that could never be real. 

A sickening wave of memory washed over Jack, and his stomach lurched. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the reality.

Daniel. 

 

*****

Janet delivered a sharp rap to the doorframe of the general's office. As usual, he gave her a warm smile. He'd been waiting for her most of the evening, she knew, but experience had taught him not to push or hurry her assessments. "Doctor Fraiser. Please." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk; she sat down in response to the invitation. "Have you finished your post-mission exams of the members of SG-1?"

"Yes, sir, I have." She handed him her report. "Physically, sir, they're all fine. A little undernourished, perhaps, and all of them are tired, but I'd say they're doing well, considering the level of labor they've been performing."

Hammond opened the file and scanned through it, reading her assessment: malnutrition, bumps, bruises, scrapes. Simple injuries, nothing more. He snapped the file folder shut. "This doesn't explain what I saw when those people came down the ramp, Doctor."

Amazing, how quickly she could switch from cool professional to worried friend. "General, I'm not quite certain what to make of it. They've all been through an ordeal, that much is clear. But how much of it is related to their captivity, and how much is personal...I haven't sorted it out yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I think it's bound to take a toll on a person when you believe you're one thing, and you discover you're something else entirely. Sir, they were living lives that weren't their own. They were behaving differently than they would normally. There were circumstances completely beyond their control. Imagine how you would feel if you woke up one morning and your entire life, everything you knew, was an illusion."

"I see your point," Hammond said. 

"I don't see a need to refer them for psychological evaluations, but I do think SG-1 should stand down for a few days. They need to readjust, to assimilate these disorienting new memories into the entirety of their lives. Just a little time to sort things out, sir." 

"Should I proceed with the debriefing tomorrow?"

"I think so, yes. I think the sooner they are done with that, the sooner they can move on--and I do think they want to move on, sir. Quickly. This wasn't a pleasant experience for any of them, and the aftermath will take some getting used to."

Hammond's eyes narrowed. "Doctor, is this going to impair their ability to work together?"

"Sir, the core relationships between the members of the team haven't been damaged. But they related to one another quite differently while they were Jonah, Carlin, Tor and Therra. Friendships were lost, and they couldn't rely on one another. It will just require some adjustment. That's all."

"No trauma severe enough to impact their status as a functioning team?"

"No, sir."

Hammond nodded. "Very well. I'll order that SG-1 stand down for one week; we'll postpone their mission to P2X-4308. Will that do?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll inform them after the debriefing tomorrow. Thank you, Doctor."

 

*****

The corridors of the plant evoked memories of other corridors, worlds away – Jack could almost smell the damp cool of the SGC’s hallways. He was shocked by how powerfully the images snapped into his mind, piled one on top of another, briefings and offices, spaces he was familiar with but had completely forgotten. The rushing tide of memory brought other feelings—apprehension, doubt, dread. 

Jack knew, before he turned the corner, that he would have trouble explaining, telling Daniel, making him understand the truth. He also knew he would have trouble thinking of Carlin as Daniel, Daniel as Carlin. Separate, distinct. Individuals. It made his head hurt, his gut ache. 

When he rounded the corner, Carlin – Daniel – was sitting on the floor, one leg straight out, the other drawn up and an arm flung over his knee. His head was back and his eyes were closed. Jack thought, with a pang of comprehension, that this really wasn’t Daniel, really wasn’t the man he’d known for five years. This was someone else, someone other. Someone he had to leave behind. 

As if he sensed Jack staring, Daniel raised his head and opened his eyes. “I thought you weren’t coming,” he said softly. 

“Fell asleep,” Jack said, and stopped in the doorway, unsure of what to do, how to act. Who to be. He looked around at the partitions of the room, as though there’d be something there to help him, some guide to the words he’d need to introduce Daniel to himself. 

“What’s wrong?” Daniel asked. He rose from the ground gracefully, powerfully, and leaned against the wall. It was their signal – of wanting to be taken, a reminder of that first time.

Damn. 

“Nothing,” Jack said. He rolled his neck around and worked out the kink that had risen there. “I’ve been thinking about escape.”

“So that talk with Therra convinced you?” Tension flowed out of Daniel’s body. “So, when you say escape, you mean – leaving here? You really mean escape?”

“I think you might be right, and there’s something to what Therra said.” Jack scratched his head with open fingers. “So it makes sense, to think about it.”

“However we do this, we’ll have to take Teal’c with us,” Daniel pointed out.

Jack looked up sharply at Daniel when he heard Teal’c’s name, and caught…something. A flicker of something in Daniel’s eyes, gone too quickly for Jack to be sure. “Tor,” he said quietly. “Right?”

“Does it matter?” Daniel countered. His face had gone still, his expression blank. Poker face.

“I think so,” Jack said. “It’s Teal’c.” They looked at each other for a moment. Daniel’s gaze was steady, sure…quiet…not like Carlin’s eyes, which were storms behind walls.

The certainty hit Jack so hard he backed up a pace. Daniel’s expression settled into sadness, tinged with hope. “How long have you known?” he asked hoarsely. 

Daniel cleared his throat. “Not long. This morning, when I woke up, I knew your name. It started coming back then.”

Jack tried and failed to muster up some kind of anger. His heart was too numb. “Were you planning to say something?” 

“I suspected you already knew. Or, that you’d know soon.” Daniel’s gaze held him. “I didn’t know how to…” He stopped, then: “I wasn’t ready to tell you.”

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off Daniel. Didn’t want to, because in a few days, it would all be over, and this world would be behind them. He crossed the small space to where Daniel waited without speaking. Fair enough; talking would only get them into trouble. Jack lifted his hands, to hold Daniel’s face between them, to touch his skin. Slowly, with infinite care, he opened Daniel to his kiss. Daniel made a small sound, a soft breath of anticipation as Jack kissed him, gently at first and then with hunger, with need. 

When Jack pulled back, he watched Daniel lick his lips. And then Daniel looked up, into his eyes; worlds of sadness and separation were mirrored there. “We’re getting the hell out of here,” Jack said, as he released Daniel and retreated across the room, back into himself, his role, the place where he belonged. 

 

*****

Daniel gathered up his jacket. It felt odd, to put on layers of flannel and worn denim after so many days of wearing rough work clothes. He had suddenly become a different person, as though a stranger lived within him, part of him and yet not any part of him at all. 

He stood in the locker room, thoughts wandering. Better to collect himself there than be surprised outside the door, where he would have to face questions he hadn’t even begun to ask himself yet. He took a deep breath and headed out into the hallway.

Jack was there, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. Waiting. 

They looked at one another for a long moment. Daniel felt as though he had never really seen Jack before; he was looking at someone he had known in a dream. Jack’s face held no expression; it was calm, but his eyes…

A shiver of desire ran through Daniel before he could catch it; he looked away. 

“Time to get the hell out of here,” Jack said. 

Daniel nodded, fiddled with his jacket. Together, they walked to the elevator. Jack swiped his card and hit the button to take them to the surface. As the elevator rose, Daniel felt words bubbling up, threatening to burst forth. Finally he began, “Jack…we should—”

“Not here.” Sharp, but soft. “My place.”

With a nod, Daniel agreed. 

He tailed Jack out of the secured parking and followed him all the way home, trying not to think about anything he might want to say when they arrived. Many ideas were mixed together in his head, absolutes on the spectrum of possibility, and he was going to need help to sort it out.

Jack’s house was cold and dark when they arrived. Daniel took his jacket off anyway while Jack tended to turning on the heat; he felt ridiculously overdressed, buried beneath his clothes. The lingering feeling of humidity clung to his skin. 

“What’ll it be? Coffee? Beer?” Jack reappeared in the doorway just as the heater kicked on. 

“Coffee. Thanks.”

Jack moved off into the kitchen to be a good host, as if everything was just as it had been a few short weeks before. Daniel listened to the house sounds – running water, clattering of canisters and lids, the sound of a beer being popped open – normal sounds that now seemed surreal and out of place. He’d lived another man’s imaginary life for two weeks. That man didn’t drink coffee, or know freedom. 

That man loved the man who was making him coffee in the kitchen. 

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe love wasn’t really part of the equation. Or maybe that man loved Jonah, and maybe it wasn’t the same thing at all. 

Daniel frowned and sat down on the edge of the overstuffed chair. He didn’t seem to be able to separate what Carlin wanted from what Daniel wanted anymore; there was no discernable difference between the spark of attraction for Jack, and the feelings he’d acquired when he was Carlin. It all churned around in his brain, making him dizzy – Jack and Daniel, Jonah and Carlin – no difference, but every difference in the world. 

Just two men, stripped of rank and expectation and obligation, free to choose their partner without all the baggage they carried in this universe. He and Jack were not those men.

And yet, they were. 

“Here.” Jack’s hand hovered in front of him, offering up a blue mug full of hot coffee. 

“Thanks,” Daniel said, and took it. He wouldn’t have imagined he could ever go two weeks without coffee, but it wasn’t really possible to miss something he hadn’t known existed.

It would have been much easier if his remembered craving for Jack’s touch could be so easily forgotten, swept away and locked behind a closed door. He sipped the coffee, and thought that it was much the same. If he could choose – to willfully forget coffee and its addictive properties – he would not make that choice. 

Jack sat down on the couch and steadied the brown bottle on his knee. “Well. This is a conversation I never thought I’d have.”

“Certainly not with you,” Daniel agreed, without thinking. He looked up at Jack, alarm making his heart beat faster, and saw it all in Jack’s eyes: Jack got it. This was one of those times that they were communicating perfectly, and Jack wasn’t assuming anything. 

“So, this, uh. What we did. It isn’t…this isn’t…new, to you,” Jack started cautiously.

“Not exactly, no.” Daniel braced himself for the reaction, and relaxed a little when Jack only nodded. The curious, obvious question came to the tip of his tongue, but Jack saved him from having to ask it by dropping the bombshell. 

“Not for me, either.”

“I never would have guessed, Jack,” Daniel said truthfully. Not in a million years, or a million universes. The Jack O’Neill he’d thought he known before they stepped through the gate to hell was straight as the day was long. Then again, he’d never really shown Jack that side of himself either, so there wasn’t much room to throw stones. 

“But this…thinking about you this way is, ah. You know. New.” Jack wagged the beer bottle, emphasizing his point. “Are you…all right?”

Daniel was quiet for a moment as he searched for a neutral reply. “Maybe,” he said cautiously. “I don’t know, Jack. Do you…” He groped for words, for some way to say it. “Are your feelings still…”

“Yeah.”

In an instant, tension rushed out of Daniel’s body, and he dropped his head with relief. Working through the reasons why the feelings were there wouldn’t be easy, but at least – at least this much, they still had. “You’re much calmer about all this than I thought you might be.”

“No choice. Debriefing is scheduled for 0800 hours tomorrow.” Jack looked at the clock on the mantel, then at Daniel, asking an unspoken question. 

“I was assuming this all came about because of the memory stamp,” Daniel said softly. “Something that was out of our control from the very beginning, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that had nothing to do with it at all. And if that’s the case, then…making it a part of the debriefing isn’t necessary.” 

“Agreed.” Jack sighed. “Whatever it was, it didn’t make any difference to the way the mission turned out. It all took place after we were captured.”

“What if it wasn’t part of the stamp?” Daniel asked. “What if it was just something between us? The controls were removed, and we were free to do what came most naturally.” He hesitated, then added, “What we most wanted.”

Jack swallowed hard. “Then I guess I would say – that was Jonah and Carlin. And you and me – we’re not those men.”

“No. I suppose not.” Daniel watched Jack’s face, but nothing flickered there; the careful facade was in place. “But parts of them are us, Jack. We were still the same. The memory stamp only gave an identity, a name, a set of false memories to convince us of our lives there. Our skill sets, our personalities and traits, our needs…those things were intact.” 

“So you’re saying we acted the same as we would have here? Come on, Daniel. Obviously, that’s not the case.” Jack’s annoyance indicated clearly that somewhere down at the bottom of his heart, Jack was freaking out. 

“No, I’m saying that…what happened between us was something that could have…would have happened here, if things were different.” Daniel took a deep breath, and avoided Jack’s eyes as he continued. “The possibilities always existed, but whether anything would ever have come of it…I don’t know. You don’t either. We can’t know.”

“Oh, I’m pretty certain I know,” Jack said. “And the answer is – no way in hell, Daniel, and you know it, too.” 

“Do I?”

Jack sighed. “Whatever could’ve, would’ve, should’ve – doesn’t matter. The fact is, it happened.” Jack took a long sip of the beer. “So as I see it, there’s two things to decide.”

“And those are?”

“Whether or not we’re going to commit a sin of omission and leave it the hell out of the mission reports, and what the hell we’re going to do about all this…now.”

“What about regulations?” Daniel asked, astonished. “About fraternization, and don’t ask don’t tell, and…other people know, Jack.”

“You’re wrong about that.” Jack’s lips quirked up in a humorless smile. “Carter and Teal’c didn’t see us together. Janet doesn’t suspect anything she’d be willing to repeat.” 

In a hollow tone, Daniel said, “You don’t think Sam knows?” 

“She knows we were close. Hell, Daniel, we’re close in this world, too.”

“Not that way. I think she suspects, Jack.”

Jack nodded—not agreeing, Daniel thought, but conceding the possibility Daniel was right. “If she does, then that’s a different kind of problem.” 

“She cares for you,” Daniel said, stating the obvious. He wondered how long Jack had known about Sam’s feelings. How long he would have kept that secret, too, if it weren’t the night for unearthing secrets. 

“She cares about you, too, Daniel.” Jack sounded unconvinced and unconvincing, as though it were a token objection.

“Don’t be coy, Jack. God. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened.” 

Jack sat forward in the chair and pointed at Daniel. “You’re going to dance around talking about principles all night long, and we don’t have time for that. I guarantee you without even talking to her that Carter won’t be spilling any suspicions that we were fucking.” 

Fucking. The word wasn’t right for what had happened between them; even with its connotations, it was too remote, too impersonal, but Daniel couldn’t find anything better. “So you’re saying we should lie.” Daniel wrapped his hands around the warm mug and stared into its black depths. “Falsify our reports. Look General Hammond in the eye and betray his trust.”

“Look, Daniel. What’s done is done. I have a career to think about. So do you.”

“So we pretend it didn’t happen.”

“No. We don’t pretend with each other. We just don’t tell the world.”

Daniel’s coffee was lukewarm now; his fingers relaxed around the mug as he drank some, then set it down. “Then I guess that’s decided,” he said. 

Jack’s eyes searched his, looking for signs of weakness, Daniel supposed; some indication of wavering on the decision, but Daniel met his gaze steadily. Satisfied, Jack sat back in the chair. 

“That leaves us with one other thing to sort out,” Daniel said. 

“Yes, it does.” 

Daniel indulged in his need to say it out loud, to make it real. “Jonah and Carlin’s relationship is just as dead as they are. It ended the minute we left that world.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Couldn’t have, if they’re such a deep part of us. Maybe if they existed independently, but they don’t. Do they? We brought all the baggage home. Maybe we should take the trip.”

Daniel stared at Jack; his heart stuttered over the implication. Jack looked back at him, calm, eyes glittering in the lamplight. “This is crazy,” Daniel informed him, as if Jack hadn’t thought of that already, hadn’t been turning the madness over and over in his head for hours just like Daniel had. 

“Think so?” Jack was watching him intently. That look made Daniel want to close the space between them and stop the talking, interrupt the incessant dissecting of what had happened between them.

“Jack, we can’t,” Daniel said desperately. “For all the reasons it’s against regulations to begin with. This is a team. It’s…”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” 

“Then why are you so willing to…unless I misunderstood.” Daniel frowned at Jack. “What are you suggesting?”

Jack looked at the clock, and then at Daniel. “Closure,” he said simply. 

Daniel glanced up at the clock himself. Just past midnight. A little under eight hours until they’d have to sit awkwardly around a table and take the first steps toward moving on. Eight hours before the door to this possibility was forever closed. 

Jack set his beer down. 

Sex with Jack wasn’t quite like Daniel had ever pictured it might be. But then, none of it had been from the very beginning. Not the rough, frantic couplings they’d had P3R-118; not the memory of being buried inside Jack, biting, bruising, punishing him with pleasure. Not even the whispered truths, the fragments of feelings growing too strong to be kept away from words. 

But none of that had been like this. Jack’s bed was too big, a sprawling canvas of desire compared to the tiny, hot room where they’d first found each other, found this. Jack’s hands, and his own, had lost their need for hurry. Hours stretched out before them, a finite time in which there were still so many things to explore. 

When Daniel tried to lift his own shirt off, Jack stopped him, as if it was something that Jack alone could do. He let Jack have his way – it would have been impossible not to, because he wanted it just as much – and Jack stripped him down one piece of clothing at a time until Daniel was bared to Jack’s eyes. Not a stranger, but someone familiar; a new kind of intimacy in their long, strange friendship. Daniel took his turn, until finally Jack’s skin was bare before him. They smiled at each other. Daniel hadn’t thought this moment would be easy, but he’d been wrong. 

They settled in the bed together, limbs tangled together in a way Daniel loved. No chance they would be discovered this time, so no need for groping under blankets or clothes. They’d had that, in another life; now they had this. Daniel touched Jack with shaking fingers as Jack kissed him, slow, wet, open kisses, deep and hungry and it was impossible to breathe…until Jack pulled back and looked at him. 

Jack’s eyes…oh. Daniel fought to catch a breath. Jack settled himself beside Daniel and began touching him, tasting him. His lips at the hollow of Daniel’s throat forced a cry from Daniel; his firm pressure on Daniel’s wrists, forcing him to release control, made Daniel arch off the bed. How much he’d wanted this, once; how miraculous it seemed, to have it again, for the first time, and for the last. 

He shivered when Jack pressed a hand flat against his belly, when Jack took Daniel’s cock into his mouth. Incredible pressure, and heat, and there were no words invented in any galaxy for the rapture of watching. Slow-motion ecstasy; Jack took his time, teased him. Daniel thrust up, but Jack wouldn’t permit it – that hand pressed down, confining him, freeing him. 

And then Jack moved over him, body to body, supporting himself over Daniel with his arms. But Daniel wanted his weight. He caught Jack’s shoulders and pulled him close, closer, until they were skin to skin, and then he took Jack’s mouth. Jack moved against him and…god, he was so hard; he ached with want. It wasn’t enough. Not even this was enough. 

They’d had time to learn to please each other, not so long ago; Jack knew what he needed. Soon enough Jack pressed inside him, responding to Daniel’s silent demands. And finally, Jack moved again, inside him, driving deep, toward Daniel’s heart. Daniel wanted to close his eyes, but Jack was there, above him, and there was no looking away. No chance to hide, anymore. 

There was so much Daniel might have said, if his speech had not deserted him. Commands, needs, but Jack seemed to understand him anyway. This was the curse they both lived with. Jack’s hips stroked forward; his kiss was just as deep, and his tongue caught at Daniel’s breath, stealing it, stealing everything, giving everything back tenfold. 

A surge of feeling broke loose inside Daniel, welling up in the most unexpected way. He stilled his explorations and cupped Jack’s neck in his hand; Jack’s rhythm changed. He rocked into Daniel, faster now, smooth and deep, and Daniel cried out in the absence of what he might have said, if he was somewhere else, someone else. He pushed up to meet each thrust, and Jack buried his face in the crook of Daniel’s shoulder, moaning low in his throat. 

His orgasm cut Daniel open, a rushing sweet fire from within, and his hand tightened on Jack’s neck. Too late to hang on, because time wouldn’t stand still for them any longer. Jack still moved, still thrust, faster and faster and finally Jack said his name, just a low growl, and pushed deep inside Daniel one last time. 

There was no moon outside, Daniel realized, as Jack slid under the covers beside him and rested his head on Daniel’s chest. No light at all. Just a dark night, leading to morning, in a world with all the comforts and luxury anyone could ever want. 

He fell asleep with his fingers buried in Jack’s soft, short hair, and Jack’s even breathing light against his skin. 

 

*****

 

Fifty-six minutes and counting. Jack could still remember when Hammond had implemented the ‘one hour rule’ – no debriefing, briefing or meeting longer than one hour. Amazing how they’d stuck to it all this time. Even on days when everyone in the room was attentively listening to the words of their teammates, picking up the pieces and threads of their disjointed common experience. Like telling stories around a campfire.

As far as Jack was concerned, there’d only been one other occasion when he had lied so skillfully, and that was in service to his country. To the planet, actually, in bringing down the NID. And on that occasion, he’d hurt Daniel, and the cracks in the foundation of their friendship had been his responsibility to repair. 

He looked across the table at Daniel, who was rambling on about the socio-economic factors that made the culture on P3R-118 such a fucking hellhole, and why they should not engage in trade, and so forth, and so on, and Jack’d lost track of what Daniel was saying a long time ago. He wasn’t going to be asked for his input. He’d already said what he had to say. 

Mostly he just wanted to look at Daniel, to see him, hear him talking. Calmly, competently. Normal. All systems go. 

Carter and Teal’c were hanging on Daniel’s every word. In fact, Carter was getting a few in edgewise. Daniel was delivering his speech with passion. With feeling. It made Jack grateful. 

And sad. 

Hammond was looking into one of the little blue folders the Air Force was so fond of. Fraiser’s report, probably. Jack watched Hammond and steeled himself, just in case something awful would happen. They were already a gazillion stories down, so no chance the earth would conveniently swallow them up if they were caught fudging the facts. 

“Doctor Fraiser has recommended some down time for you, people. A chance to rest up and get accustomed to being back here in your normal lives.” Hammond looked up at Jack with that steely, direct gaze. “How do you feel about that, Colonel?”

Jack glanced around the table. His team all looked back at him. Still neutral. “I’m for it, sir. A week of down time…time for fishing…nice, lengthy kel-no-reeming…whatever floats our respective boats.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. We’ll postpone your upcoming mission. Major, I’ll need a revised mission briefing next Tuesday morning. Until then, SG-1 is on stand-down.” Hammond stood up. “Dismissed.”

As one unit, they all stood up from the table. Before Jack could speak, Teal’c clasped his hands behind his back and said, “Do not ask me to fish with you, O’Neill. I will be forced to decline.”

“Aw, Teal’c. You wound me.” Jack flashed him an amused smile, one mirrored by Carter and Daniel. “What’s not to love about fishing?”

“If you require it, I will supply you with a list of many items I do not love about it.”

The tension that had been simmering around them broke and melted away. Leave it to Teal’c. “No…nope, not necessary.” Jack looked at Carter, and then at Daniel. “I suppose you both have excuses.”

“Research,” said Daniel, and at the same time, Carter said, “Projects. Sir.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded knowingly at them. “Whatever.”

When Carter and Teal’c had gone, the room seemed smaller. Daniel stood on the opposite side of the table, the tips of his fingers touching the tabletop. His eyes held vast relief, along with something much harder to define. Jack thought he recognized it, but he’d be better off if he pretended not to notice. 

“You only invite me to go fishing because you know I won’t take you up on it,” Daniel said. 

“Room for two. Standing invitation, remember?”

“Not this time,” Daniel said. He smiled. 

“Didn’t think so.” Jack pushed in his chair. “You’ll never know what you’re missing.”

“Yes, I think I will.”

Jack tapped the back of the chair. It would be so easy. All he’d have to do would be take the folders out of Daniel’s hands, set them on the table, and invite him again. And Daniel would go, he was sure of it. They’d go together, through the mountain, up to the surface, into a private world. The temptation was so great, he imagined he heard Daniel silently cheering him on, wishing the action into being. 

But then Daniel spoke, and put that wistful fantasy to rest. “It’s more than what we had before,” Daniel said, so quietly Jack had to strain to hear him. “It’s enough.”

Jack nodded; the truth of it mirrored his own certainty. He pushed away thoughts of changing his mind about the whole damned thing. Instead he asked, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Now that was a lie; no expertise was required for Jack to tell the difference. Daniel’s half-smile dared Jack to challenge it for what it was. “You?”

“I’m in the mood for some fresh air.” Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Been cooped up too long.”

“This down time will be good for all of us,” Daniel said. “To put some things in perspective.”

“Oh, I have perspective. What I need is a little less perspective. Life would be easier without it.” 

Now Daniel was giving him that intense stare, the prelude to a round of questions and talking, and suddenly Jack didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to be in the headspace he was currently occupying. He stopped it before it began by turning his head toward Hammond’s office. When he looked back at Daniel, Daniel was nodding. This was what it was all about, after all. This place. This duty. 

“So I’ll see you in a week, then,” Jack said. 

“See you,” Daniel said. Jack watched him navigate the stairs, heading for his office, and parts unknown after that. 

Jack thought Daniel might have liked fishing, in another life.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Pouncer, The Wild Mole, Barkley, Brighid, Carol S and Rosalita for their betas, insightful comments and suggestions.


End file.
